


Ready Player Swan

by Redicefields



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), ouat
Genre: CS AU, Captain Swan - Freeform, Captain Swan AU - Freeform, F/M, cs fanfic, cs ff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 09:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5863873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redicefields/pseuds/Redicefields
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma becomes engrossed in Mist Haven 4, an online multi player game, and meets an intriguing gaming partner. Meanwhile, she and roommate Mary Margaret cross paths with a local chef who seems oddly familiar. 1/?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready Player Swan

“Emma, is that you?” Mary Margaret called from down the hall of their shared apartment. 

“Yeah, I’m home.” Emma answered, kicking the door shut behind her and shuffling out of her red jacket. She hung it in the hall closet and kicked her intimidatingly high heels in after, relaxing down to her natural height and stretching her bare toes. Her fare today required a little undercover work, which meant dressing to impress the male gaze rather than dressing to facilitate a two mile foot chase. Luckily, Emma had much practice making those two surprisingly compatible.

“Come into the kitchen,” Mary Margaret beckoned from the other room, “I need your opinion on something!”

“Coming.” Emma untucked her blouse from her skirt and quickly scooped her long blonde waves into an easy half-pony tail while tramping down the hall. “What’s up? I had a hell of a day chasing some moron down Broadway and through Azalea Park, and I—Whoa!” Emma started as she rounded the corner. Mary Margaret stood in the kitchen in what could only be described as…sultry schoolteacher. Her face sheepish and heavily made-up, she posed girlishly in a form fitting sleeveless little black dress with a plunging neckline and modern cut outs in the back, fishnet stockings, and studded black heeled booties. In one hand she held a platter of still warm and oozing brownies, and in her right hand a plaque entitled “teaching recognition award.”  
Emma could do nothing but gawk, and let out a few open mouth chuckles. “Where are YOU going? I thought you had a work meeting tonight?”

“I do! I am going to the awards ceremony. But it’s also mine and David’s anniversary tonight, so we wanted to go out afterwards. And I’m trying to make a sartorial compromise.” Mary Margaret cringed. “And Ruby helped me. Is it too much?”

Emma smirked. Ruby’s handprints were all over this outfit. “For a school meeting,” Emma sat at the kitchen bar stool, “Yes. BUT-” Emma reached over and pawed at the fresh brownies “For David, no.”

Mary Margaret scrunched up her face. “I knew it. But Ruby insisted. And she’s so convincing.”

Emma giggled, still chewing her chocolate treat. “But, I think if you just lose the fishnets and put on a teacher-ly cardigan, you should be able to pull off dual roles.”

Mary Margaret sighed in visible relief at the advice. “Thank you,” she mouthed emphatically, and slipped off to change and join David for the evening.

***

Emma sighed and plopped down at her desk, switching her desktop on. Wanting to forget about chasing her perp across the crowded streets of New York and with Mary Margaret out for the night, she needed an escape-- time for Mist Haven 4. Emma quickly shuffled into her cozy sweats, popped on her headphone/mic headset and logged into the action RPG. Emma had always had a mild interest in gaming (whenever her foster siblings let her join in), but when she downloaded this one last week on a whim, it engrossed her entirely. 

It was a fantasy themed game set in the imaginary world of Mist Haven. Players could choose and customize their character (spanning warlocks to werewolves to dwarves) and play co-op games with specific or random players. The ultimate goal of the game was to dethrone the Evil Queen of Mist Haven and to do so you needed to complete a series of quests. Emma’s character “Lost_Swan” was a class 5 sorceress, and she had already completed the first two main quests: Freeing villagers from a mass amnesia spell, and releasing the Evil Queen’s nemesis, the Bandit Princess, from the castle prison. 

Emma selected her current game and waited for the screen to load. There was something so calming about this world that just relaxed her at the end of a long day. She clicked random player mode and waited to be matched with an open game. She flipped her headset on. 

***loading***

***loading***

***Lost_Swan has joined the game***

***Captain_H4ck has joined the game***

Two avatars manifested on screen. Emma’s character was loosely modeled on herself, clothed in long white robes with long ethereal, yet witchy blonde hair. Her character intermittently effervesced with a purple glow to signal her magical abilities. The second was male, clothed all in black, and was categorized as a warrior with skills in stealth, lock picking, swordplay, and navigation.

Emma’s intercom buzzed as she connected with the second player. A deep, throaty British accent crackled over the headset, “Hello, Swan. Are you lost?”

Emma rolled her eyes and snapped back, “Right where I want to be, Captain.” 

“Aye aye, then, lass. Shall we engage our quest?”

“Roger,” Emma confirmed, “We’re after the golden compass artifact. Looks like we need to get to the beanstalk, due North of here.”

“Right, love. Off we go.” 

If there were an “eye roll” emoji, Emma would have surely sent it.  
***  
Emma clicked the game off. She and her random partner had achieved their goal, having climbed the enchanted beanstalk and secured the golden compass, a requisite for the next strategic hit against the Evil Queen. She was smiling as she wrapped up her game equipment. She’d played with many a random player during her tenure as an MMO participant, but she rarely thought much of them after the game ended. Maybe it was just the accent, but it was almost certainly not just that. His sense of humor, his skill, and his uncanny listening ability made him an ideal online partner. 

Emma absent-mindedly hummed the game theme song as she padded into the kitchen to make a quick mug of peppermint tea before heading to bed. As she put the kettle on the stovetop, she heard the front lock turn and click from down the hall, followed by muffled giggling. Mary Margaret must be home. Emma suppressed the mild bloom of envy in her chest as she listened to the intermittent giggling and silence of whatever romantic goodnight was happening just outside her apartment door. It had been a long time since Emma herself had those feelings, let alone trusted them. Still, despite past relationships (she quickly curbed Neal’s name from her imagination), she missed that easy, gratifying intimacy that Mary Margaret and David shared. Sighing, Emma fetched two mugs from the cupboard and filled them with the whistling-hot water as her roommate giddily swayed into the kitchen, clearly touched with the toxic effects of both love and liquor. 

“Nightcap?” Emma gestured to the two tea bags she held in her hand.

Mary Margaret sank into the kitchen bar stool, “Please! As long as it is a booze free nightcap…” her head drooped, smiling into her folded arms on the counter.

“Peppermint tea, sans schnapps, coming up.” Emma answered, sliding the steeping mug toward her near-incapacitated friend. Emma dolloped a healthy drop of whiskey into her own. 

“A good night?” Emma smirked.

Mary Margaret cupped the mug between her hands and inhaled deeply. “Mmm hmmm,” she nodded, her eyes half closed, make up smudged. “Great night. But I’m so tired…and probably a bit tipsy too.” She lurched up from the stool and bowed clumsily, “so I shall retire for the evening.” 

Emma laughed, “Good night, your majesty. Need any assistance to your room?”

“Please, this majesty can handle it,” Snow called over shoulder as she jostled down the hall to her bedroom. 

***

Emma awoke to a rapping on her bedroom door.

“Emma, you awake?” 

Emma groaned and looked at her alarm clock. 7:30am on her day off. She sighed audibly. “Yeah? What’s up?” she called out.

Snow opened the bedroom door and leaned in, her face mildly contorted “You hungry?” She massaged her temples. “I think I need a greasy breakfast to recover from yesterday’s cocktails.”  
Emma groaned, pulling the covers over her head “Only YOU would want a hangover breakfast while the birds are still chirping.”  
“Emma, come on! I just need some coffee, food, and a little company. And I have conferences this afternoon. It is Thursday, you know.” Snow raised her eyebrows and gestured getting out of bed.  
“Fine!” Emma relented, “But, you’re paying.” She wrestled out of the covers, eyes still half shut. “Where do you want to go?”  
“Yes!” Mary Margaret fist pumped in the most lady- like fashion, “I thought we could try that new restaurant downtown? The Jolly Roger?” 

What a corny fucking name for a restaurant. “Aye matey, do they serve rum mimosas?” Emma scoffed, lurching out of bed and scrambling for appropriate Thursday morning attire. She managed to paw some skinny jeans from her laundry pile and an oversized knit black sweater. 

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. “I hear it’s really quite good! I’ve heard delectable things about their brunch spread.” 

***

“Shrimp and grits?”

“A breakfast classic!” Mary Margaret asserted.  
“Smoked salmon hash?” Emma raised a skeptical brow.  
“Fresh caught, I’m sure.” Mary Margaret flipped the menu over. 

“Where is the bacon and eggs! How about some friggin’ oatmeal!” Emma pouted, tossing the menu on the table and crossing her arms. “I’m starving, and fish is the only thing on the menu.”

A short, bearded waiter approached their table dressed in a neat black apron over a white uniform with red trim. He gave brief, but dramatic bow, “Good morning, ladies. My name is William, can I get anything started for you?”

“I’ll have a café au lait, please,” Mary Margret sweetly requested from their server. He scribbled down her order and turned slightly to Emma. 

“Coffee…make it Irish.” Emma grumped back into her chair. 

“Any whiskey preference on the Irish coffee?” William quickly inquired.

“Whatever’s fine.” Emma responded, “Also, do you have anything on the menu that maybe didn’t come from Davey Jones’ locker?”

“I’ll see what our chef can do” the waiter smiled politely, and quickly shuffled away.

“Well, you’re certainly chipper this morning.” 

Emma sighed, “I figured you’d be the one craving an adult beverage this morning. I guess it’s just too early for me. Irregular schedule and all.”

“Sure.” Mary Margaret shrugged off. “Nothing to do with those late nights…”

“Those late nights, doing my job?” Emma finished.

“Fine,” Mary Margaret relented. “Your job sucks. But mine isn’t always an easy cup of peppermint tea, either.”

“Fair enough,” Emma relented, easing back into her seat. 

They continued to peruse the menu in easy silence for a few more moments. Emma even offered William a genuine smile when he delivered their coffee drinks. Closely behind their server came a man dressed in just as neat, tidy black uniform, with a white chef’s apron.

“Morning, loves.” He began, “I am Chef Jones, at your service. I’ve heard there have been some…questions about our breakfast menu? Is there anything I can do to make your morning meal more comfortable for you?”

Emma internally groaned at this gratuitous treatment, and quickly swigged from her Irish coffee. “It’s me, yeah, I’m the picky one.” She dramatically gestured into the air. “I guess you could say I’m not so fond of the deep sea flavors here, but I’m still hoping for a filling meal. Any adjustments you could make?”

“Certainly, love, we can replace any of the protein you like with tofu, with veggies, or with an appropriate protein of your choice.”

Something about his voice caused Emma to do a double take. “You can do any substitution?” She queried, paying attention to his tone.

“Aye, lass.” The man responded. “Anything you like. What strikes your fancy?”  
Emma eyed him hard. There was something all too familiar, and yet, exceptionally foreign about this man. “I’ll have the salmon scramble. With bacon. No salmon.”

“As you wish, love.” The man concurred, bowing his head lightly, and giving Emma what she thought was a brisk wink before he disappeared from their serving area. 

“See, Emma?” Mary Margaret suppressed a righteous smile, “You’re always so cynical. Also, maybe you should try new things. Maybe you actually like salmon!”

Emma was half listening, still trying to place Chef Jones as the waiter asked Mary Margaret for her order. “What?” she rolled her eyes at friend. “I don’t like salmon. Or shrimp and grits.”

“Sure.” Mary Margaret nodded with exaggerated belief. 

Emma downed her coffee and ordered another.


End file.
